Making Memories of Us

I have concluded that I am a skier...always have been, always will be. I have skied since I was itty bitty and have decided I will ski until I can no longer. Except for a 15 year hiatus while in college and grad school and having babies and stuff like that...I have skied for a good portion of my life. I have fond memories of my ski trips as a kid and I hope to pass those on to my kids. I cannot think of skiing and NOT think of all the great times I had such as:

* Riding on the chair lift with my dad and being catapulted like a rocket as the chair lift hit me in the back. Sounds fun...no?

* Having my dad catch me by the hood of my jacket and dangle me below the chair lift like Raggedy Ann only to drop me into the fresh snow bank...skis and all. (Still not bitter about that one dad).

* Skiing through the trees and falling in the fresh powder only to laugh so hard that I almost pee my pants (I think a few times I did but, I want you to like me so, I ALMOST peed k?)

* Being the FIRST people at the mountain so that we could get the BEST parking space so that when we had to walk to get our lunch from the car it wasn't very far. (My parents were cheap like that).

* Skiing so fast down the hill that my eyes are watering.

* Teaching my own kids how to ski.

* Having my youngest on a harness that looks like a leash and having her yell at me "Go faster Santa"

* Seeing my youngest try to ski solo and watching her fall..Charlie Brown style...head over skis a few times and looking up at me with snow covering her face and still laughing.

* My youngest ran smack into the rear of my oldest daughter while skiing and, I swear, their legs ended up looking like a pretzel...all tangled and both skis still attached.

* Watching a run away ski go down the mountain with a boot still attached and hearing my daughter yell "mommy can you get that for me." Ya, sure..let me get this ski WITH a boot and walk it up to you. This ordeal only took about 30 minutes and ended with a fit of swearing (under my breath) and both of us walking down the hill.

* Trying to go to the bathroom with two kids and all our gear...let's just say it is a good morning if nothing falls in the toilet....enough said.

* Resisting all temptation to spray super hot hubby with snow when he has fallen. Especially when he got tangled up in the net like a fish...oh boy that was a tough one to resist but, resist I did...I decided to spray a stranger instead just to get it out of my system. I am far too nice when teaching someone how to ski to spray them with snow after they had fallen down. Oh I kid...well, kinda.

* Riding up on the chair lift with both girls and seeing their skis stick straight out since their legs are so short.

* Loving that both of my girls want to ski until the very end of the day regardless of the conditions...THAT is how I know I am raising kids that have the same love of skiing that I do.

Life is Too Short

I attended a funeral for an 18 year old student that was gunned down in the prime of his life. It was a tough one....he was a good kid, came from a crappy home life but, was trying to make some positive changes in his life. I sat there staring at his casket thinking, "Why do things like this happen?" We all sit and wonder why...we never know the answer to that question...NEVER, even if we try to wrap our brains around the why's, the answer never comes. It is what it is (my new mantra) and life must go on. During the funeral, the minister mentioned that while the young man was dead and never coming back...the living must move on. We must live, in spite of the tragedies in our lives. We must live, in spite of the sadness we feel. We must live, in spite of our desire to curl up under the covers and hide. We must live. So, I chose to do just that...LIVE!!! I will enjoy the good things and learn from the bad. I will still complain...since that is just who I am, lucky you my fellow readers.

We All Know One

Oh dear...we have all seen them...some have blogged about them...a few even know them. I am talking about the workout weirdos...the ones who for whatever reason choose to draw attention to themselves while engaging in some sort of exercise. There are those that sing to their tunes, those that talk to themselves, those that sweat profusely and then leave it on the machine for the next person to enjoy, they come in all shapes and models.

I received an e-mail from my dear friend SLAB and she told a story of a workout weirdo that she encountered at her gym recently. She and the rest of her family trek to the gym for a little family workout. She hops on the treadmill alongside a dashing and handsome man that just happens to be her husband. (Insert love song here) As they are running, staring longingly across the treadmills at each other envisioning running into each others arms...when what to her wondering eyes should occur? Here is how she tells the story:

So we are running on neighboring treadmills and he starts doing this crazy thing. He starts pumping his arms, then his knees start coming up all high as he gets going faster. Then - I'm not kidding here girls - he f*@^ing SNAPPED his fingers a couple of times and I could swear I heard some singing along. (I had my ipod on too, and I was trying my best to ignore it and pretend like I didn't know him). Then, THEN, he yelled out "come on!" and "push it!". OMG, I almost f*@^ing stuck my foot out and tripped him to end the embarrassment.

Mercifully, his run was finally over, and he was cooling down. I subtly slipped one earbud out and said to him "seriously? that was weird... and embarrassing. Warn me next time and I'll turn my music up." And he goes "was I being loud? I guess my music was up too high!" I shook my head and said - loudly- "whatever, I don't know you. I'm just offering you some friendly advice. Mellow it out."

Oh that SLAB...she kills me!!!

Tales of a Thespian

For those of you that don't know...thespian is an actor not to be confused with a lesbian which I am not, not that there is anything wrong with that. It will come as a great shock to many of you to hear that I have tried out for play. Yep, that is me...a counselor/mom/best wife ever/actress. Add that to my resume...I can only hope that James Cameron can come to my show and see my abilities and KNOW that he must have me for his upcoming blockbuster hit to star as Brad Pitt's mistress (well, Brad Pitt minus the weird beard he has right now). SIGH.

I got up the nerve to try out for a play which is weird since I was not into drama when I was a kid. I had one drama class in Jr. high that I loved but, I loved the teacher not the drama class. Needless to say, this is out of my comfort zone. I showed up to the auditions and was clearly the oldest one there by at least 2.3 years maybe even more. I was told to stand up and read lines for Mother Goose, Little Red Riding Hoods mom, and Mama Bear. Now, Mother Goose is sweet, lovely, delightful lady...much like me so I totally nailed that one. Now, Ma Hood was a bit more difficult. I was asked to read in my best southern accent to which I responded with...I don't even have a bad southern accent. Funny that I didn't get that part. I was notified that I was cast as Mother Goose and yes, I was totally offended since she is usually fat and old.

I had my first rehearsal and the director was saying that I was going to have a goose puppet throughout the show and I would be talking to the goose at times...say huh? As if this wasn't out of my comfort zone enough...now I was going to be talking to damn puppet? As I was reading the script she interrupted me and says.."oh ya, I forgot I killed the goose so, you won't have a puppet." THANK GOD...I was a bit worried I may look foolish.

Can't Think of a Title Since I Have Had a Beer Already

First of all, you aren't going to believe this but, I am sitting at the airport getting all judgy on people who can't control their kids and scoping out who I do NOT want to sit by on my plane. Yep, that's right, another girlie adult trip down to Southern California. I can look around all scowling and be bothered by the mom in front of me with 3 kids that all have lollipops and need to get their shoes off and don't want to put their beloved stuffed giraffe on the belt to be scanned. Yep, I totally could do that but, I don't (well, kinda do but don't want to sound all mean and stuff) since I can so feel her pain.

On another note, I received a phone call from super hot hubby the other day while I was at work. It made me laugh to remember again exactly how differently we think. I answered the phone and he was clearly flustered as he called me by my name (he usually doesn't do that usually a term of endearment or maybe a bad name under his breath...oh I kid but, I would totally call me a bad name). He goes on to say..."There was an incident at (oldest daughters) school today." I say..."ok" and kinda freaking out but not really freaking out yet. Then he proceeds to tell me this story about a guy that was walking around the campus without his shirt on and the school went into lock down (I am thinkin...cool is he hot?). I say..."Ummm, ok...then what?" He goes on to say...well, he was escorted off campus and then later the kids were let out of lock down. I say..."Wait, did this guy take our daughter hostage or something?" Ummm, no? Why would you think that? Well, let's see...why would I think that? Maybe because my mom thought I was stuffed in the trunk of someone's car and this is where my thoughts go or maybe because you said an "incident" and I hardly define that as an incident. And he says I am the "dramatic" one....GEEZ!!

Island of the Misfits

We had a New Years party at our house...not just any party...it was a Dick Clarks New Year's Rockin Eve party. On a side note, did anyone see Dick Clark on New Years Eve Oh Geez...isn't he married? Why is his wife not telling him nicely to hang up his New Years Eve Balls (hehehehe) and retire? If super hot hubby looked like that...I would be telling him straight up..."you had your day honey, make way for Ryan Seacrest." Don't get me wrong, I love Dick Clark but, at some point it is ok to say I am going to retire and head to Jamaica Mon'...just sayin' So, back to the party...we had a bash at our house with all the neighbors. Now from previous posts you understand that I LOVE our neighbors and they are a hoot to be around. We spend endless summer evenings busting out the safety cones in the cul-de-sac to ensure our children do not get run over by the 6 cars that reside in that cul-de-sac (I KNOW, right? We are good like that) all the while drinking way too much for a Tues night. My kind of peeps, no?

I was so excited when one of our neighbors talked super hot hubby into hosting the party at our house. I knew if I came to him, he would most likely say "HELL NO" but to her? He sweetly said..."ya, sounds fun." Come again? I jumped at the opportunity or his own insanity whichever the case may be to have the party. We had music, dancing (only the girls danced but, STILL), noise, drinks and mayhem. The kids were hopped on sugar for several hours breaking and throwing things and running and screaming through the house. One kid came in a mask that I swear was a Jonas brother but, apparently it was some young Luke Skywalker...it really freaked me out. Everyone stayed up until midnight to ring in the new year...then go home.

The next morning I spent about an hour putting things away and cleaning up the mess. Picking up beer bottles, recycling empty wine bottles, and putting the food away...ya, the next morning but whatever. I could not believe some of the things that were left behind from our guests. Some of them I am excited about since I still have them and I am hoping they forget about them. Others? I wondered how in the heck did they leave that?

As evidenced by the picture...I bring you the island of the misfit stuff...we have a new pot holder, a great Crate and Barrel platter, a baby blanket, some extra dishes, two coats and a pair of shoes. Now, the shoes??? I didn't get since all of the guests walked home. Hmmm...I believe we have a runner up for mom of the year!!! This is why we are friends.